


Mercy Me

by petvampire



Category: Original Work
Genre: Aphrodisiacs, Bondage, Consensual Non-Consent, Established Relationship, I PROMISE IT’S CONSENSUAL, Kidnapping, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-28
Updated: 2021-01-28
Packaged: 2021-03-14 00:35:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,489
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29037969
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/petvampire/pseuds/petvampire
Summary: Tale as old as time: a hero, a villain, a kidnapping, a lot of banging.Gratuitous, shameless self-indulgence smut of two original characters. Contains consensual non-consent.
Comments: 3
Kudos: 26





	Mercy Me

The hero was held captive, at the mercy of the four-armed, scorpion-tailed menace they called only Zehir.

Mercy. What a laugh.

That was what they called him, the moniker his hero agency had slapped on him for marketing purposes. Dressed in pure white, with an angel-wing motif that repeated throughout his costume, the hero was recognizable from a mile away. He wasn’t a front-line fighter, not the kind of world-famous villain-thrasher that the hero scene loved. Instead, he was a support hero - a man with a healing factor that he used to patch up other heroes, civilians, and occasionally even villains, when they were too badly wounded to face questioning and proper justice.

And now he was a prisoner.

Zehir was his polar opposite, dressed in black and virulent green, all stark leather framing a broad, tall body, a mask that eclipsed half of his head, giving him an even more insectoid appearance. Two black-gloved hands pinned Mercy’s wrists down against the cement floor of the warehouse he’d brought the hero to; his second set of arms was folded over his chest in amused arrogance, a cocky smirk curving his lips.

“Well, well. The little angel himself. I’ve been wanting to meet you for a long time.” He leaned down, close enough for Mercy to smell the mint on his breath, close enough that the beaked carapace of his mask brushed against the hero’s nose. 

Mercy grunted and thrashed against him, bright blue eyes narrowed behind his own mask, slightly askew on his handsome features. He had wavy blond hair, currently in disarray, matted to his temples with sweat and blood. Not his own blood - he’d been in the middle of a healing when Zehir and his Scor-Peons had showed up, knocking Mercy in the back of the head and jerking him away from the bank security guard he’d been treating. He’d been shoved unceremoniously into the back of a van, still dizzy and half-conscious, and finally dumped out here, the villain himself knocking him to the ground.

“Let me go,” he snapped, trying again to dislodge the other’s grasp on him. “My team, my agency will be coming after me - it’s only a matter of time, they’ll put you behind bars where you belong—“

Zehir laughed, grip tightening on the hero’s wrists. He had probably four or five inches of height on Mercy, though part of that was due to the thick-soled platform boots he wore to give him a more commanding presence. Broad-shouldered and well-muscled, he had no trouble keeping the more lithe hero pinned, without even exerting that much extra effort. Zehir’s specialty was in poisons and toxic substances that he could secrete from his scorpion tail, but he could hold his own in a fight easily as well. A villain of many talents.

Good for him; bad for Mercy.

“No one’s coming after you until we’re good and done here, angel. We disabled that handy little tracker you have installed in your uniform belt, covered our trail. Your fellow heroes have bigger concerns than one little missing sidekick, anyway,” he added in a vicious purr, making Mercy thrash against him.

“Support hero, I’m not a sidekick, I—“

“Like I care.” Zehir unfolded his second set of arms, one hand flicking a finger against the other’s lips, watching in amusement as he sputtered and snapped. “They’re not coming after you, whatever you are. You’re all mine.”

“Like hell I am!” Mercy twisted his head, and Zehir just chuckled.

“Playing hard to get? Fine, then.” His expression going hard beneath his mask, he grasped the other’s wrists tight enough to grind the fragile bones together, making the hero wince, as he pulled a narrow blade from a sheath on his thigh. With a flick of his hand, he was cutting through the hero’s costume, shoving the layers of white fabric away from fair skin until they lay in shreds beneath him. Only the boots and the mask were left of the hero’s usual getup; he was naked and pinned under the villain, still writhing against his grasp, but failing to dislodge him.

Wordless exclamations escaped the hero’s lips as he struggled, but his breath caught in his throat as Zehir’s second set of hands grabbed at his thighs, jerking his legs up and apart. He almost swallowed his tongue as the other’s scorpion tail whipped around to hover over him; the tip of it usually secreted some kind of deadly poison, the barb itself sharp enough to pierce through flesh and bone. It looked somehow blunted now, dripping some kind of thick, viscous fluid. 

He had no idea what it was - but it didn’t look good.

The villain’s mask folded back, revealing a narrow, arrogant face with high, arched brows and deep green eyes, that same condescending smirk curving his lips. “Poor little Mercy,” he drawled, palms sliding up the other’s thighs even as he struggled. “Don’t worry, angel. You’re going to start feeling very good soon.” His thumb dragged over the cleft of the hero’s ass, making him jerk as it pressed against his entrance. 

Before he could protest, that tail was whipping forward, driving into him.

He expected the barb to pierce into his flesh, pumping whatever toxin it was secreting into his bloodstream; instead, the blunted point slid into his ass, making a strangled half-shout leave his lips. It should have hurt, probably, but the thick fluid eased the way, and it was… warm, and strange, and starting to make him feel hot…

Above him, Zehir was grinning, his face going slightly hazy in Mercy’s vision. “That’s right, sweetheart,” he purred, leaning down to lick a line up the hero’s throat, chuckling when he shivered. “This particular little beauty of a toxin is a pure aphrodisiac chemical. So easy to get it directly into your system this way,” he added with a smirk, as the tail drove deeper into the hero, forcing a low whimper from his throat. “Feels good, doesn’t it?”

The hero’s body was obviously responding. A pink flush had spread over his face and chest, and his cock had gone hard and aching, curving up towards his belly. Zehir dragged one finger along the length of it, pleased at the moan the touch elicited from Mercy.

“Good boy,” he whispered into the hero’s ear, and he almost jumped.

Pulling back, Zehir raised a hand. One of his henchmen - positioned near enough to be summoned at need, but decorously turned away from the action, for now at least - brought a black briefcase to his side and set it down. Chuckling, Zehir nodded for the man to depart, then popped open the case. His particular mutation made this much easier; he could still hold Mercy down with one set of hands, while the other busied themselves with the contents of the case.

The first thing he did was wrap a pair of leather cuffs around the hero’s wrists, bound together with a short chain of metal links. Unnecessary, considering Mercy was no longer struggling, but he liked seeing the other bound and vulnerable. A pair of nipple clamps came next, and he chuckled as the healer whimpered at the pressure of them closing around sensitive flesh. A thin chain ran from one to the other, and he attached that to a leather collar fastened almost lovingly around the healer’s throat, so the chain tugged at the clamps every time the other moved his head. A look of startled realization flashed across the hero’s face, and Zehir laughed, flicking one of his nipples. “That’s right, angel. The more you struggle, the more fun we’re going to have, you and I.”

The hero’s breath caught in his throat, and Zehir pulled back and withdrew his tail so he could stand, scooping the other up in his arms. There was a bed - well, a thin mattress on a rusted bed frame - across the room, and he took the hero to it, tossing him onto the dingy sheets. He was on his knees and elbows, and the villain dragged his arms forward to attach his cuffs to one corner of the frame, leaving him awkwardly stretched out across the mattress. Humming appreciatively at the view, Zehir pushed his knees further apart, licking his lips at the sight of a drip of the aphrodisiac sliding down the other’s thigh. “Such a pretty sight,” he murmured, spreading the hero’s cheeks and running a fingertip over his tight hole, watching with amusement as Mercy twitched, body clearly desperate for more.

Zehir pressed himself against the other’s back, one hand fisting in his hair and jerking his head back, making him yelp as the movement tugged at the chain attached to the clamps. He pressed his mouth against the hero’s neck, licking and biting along the pale skin. “Come on now, angel,” he whispered, catching the hero’s earlobe between his teeth. “How does this make you feel?” One hand slid around to wrap around Mercy’s cock, giving it a few slow, teasing strokes. “You’re so hard already… you want it bad, don’t you? You’re desperate to be touched, desperate to cum.” He grinned, biting down harder on the other’s throat. “Such a needy little slut. You’re not getting anything until I’m done with you.” 

It was so gratifying to hear the throaty whimper as one of his free hands slipped a cock ring over Mercy’s length, sliding it to the base of his dick. 

His hands slid away from the other’s cock, bracketing the hero’s hips. He’d rarely been more grateful for his extra hands as he slid one down to tease between Mercy’s cheeks, pushing the pad of his thumb against his hole. Hearing the hero moan, he chuckled again, nipping at his neck. “You want more, don’t you, angel? You want to get fucked.” He pressed a fingertip into the other, feeling the slick coating of the aphrodisiac he’d pushed into the man easing his way. “You open up so well for me. Wouldn’t your fans love to see you like this, hm? Their perfectly pure hero, reduced to a panting, trembling fucktoy. And you love it, don’t you,” he whispered, adding a second finger, scissoring them inside of the man. “It feels so good you want to beg for more, beg me to play with your slutty little body until you cum all over yourself.”

Mercy moaned, a low keen in his throat as he pushed his hips back against Zehir’s hand. The villain laughed and pushed a third finger in. His own costume was becoming restrictively tight; he undid the front of his pants, letting up some of the pressure on his confined cock. “Beg for it, pretty boy. Tell me how much you want me to fuck that tight ass of yours.”

The sound the hero made in answer was breathtaking, as was the way he arched his back, so desperate for further contact. “Please,” he whispered, voice raspy and tormented, shaky with intense need.

Zehir laughed, one hand connecting with the other’s ass cheek in an obscenely loud slap, making the hero jump. “You can do better.”

Mercy whined again, his head dropping, his hips pushing back against the other’s hand, another pathetic whimper leaving him as the villain drew his fingers out, leaving him empty. “Fuck me,” he managed to get out, feeling the blood rushing to his face and his cock at once. “Please, please, just fill me up, I need it so bad…”

“Poor angel,” Zehir teased, his chuckle low and husky. “I’ll give you what you need.” Standing for a moment, he stripped out of his costume, momentarily cursing the unnecessary number of layers and the annoying fastenings. Naked, he slid back against the hero, letting his cock slide between his cheeks, just rubbing up against him. Mercy keened, hands clenched into white-knuckled fists. “Please,” he groaned again, louder this time. “I need your cock in me.”

The villain would have enjoyed teasing him longer, reveling in just how desperate the aphrodisiac made him, but he was achingly hard himself. Gripping Mercy’s hips, he positioned the head of his cock against his stretched hole, pushing just the tip in slowly, excruciatingly slowly. Even with the slick liquid easing the way, the hero was tight and hot around him, and his own groan echoed Mercy’s. “Such a tight hole,” he purred, slowly pushing his way inside, inch by inch, until he was buried to the hilt. Leaning over the hero, he bit at his neck again, laying a trail of sharp nips up to his ear.

“You know,” he whispered as he rocked his hips, grinding his length inside of the other, “I was going to let all of the Scor-Peons use you. Let each and every one of them fuck that tight ass, use you like the little whore you are. But you feel so fucking nice; I think I’m gonna keep you for myself, pump you full of my cum, use you as my personal fuckhole whenever I please.” He growled as he pulled his hips back and thrust forward again in a short, sharp movement that made the hero gasp. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Admit it, angel, you’re just a filthy cockslut begging to be filled. You need somebody to fuck that sweet ass, use your body, remind you of where you belong.” He was falling into a rhythm now, thrusting harder, his hands bruise-tight on the other’s hips.

The sounds the hero was making were constant now, a litany of needy moans falling from his lips. He was panting, thrusting his hips back to meet Zehir’s, whimpering when every arch and shift tugged at the clamps on his nipples. His dick was leaking precum, the cock ring keeping him from going over the edge, keeping his hard-on. The aphrodisiac was still racing through his veins, and he could feel every stroke as Zehir fucked into him, angling his hips just right so he could drive against the hero’s prostate. “Yes,” he breathed out, not even thinking anymore, the words spilling out of him driven by sheer, maddening lust and pleasure. “I am, I need it, use me, please…” 

Zehir let out a guttural laugh, slamming himself into the other hard enough to make him yelp. “Take it, slut. I’m gonna fill that tight hole for you, give you what you’re dying for.” With a growl, he jerked his hips in a few more punishing thrusts, then buried himself as deep as he could go, holding the squirming hero’s hips tight against him as he came, spilling into that tight, pulsing warmth. 

Under him, Mercy moaned, hips grinding back as if trying to milk every last drop of cum from the villain’s cock. Zehir groaned again, slapping his ass. “None of that now, angel. Be a good boy and I might let you cum.” Slowly, he drew himself out of the hero, smirking at the pathetic little whimpers coming from the other’s lips. “Just fucked, and you’re already so desperate to be filled again…” He let out a low chuckle, wiping his cock absently against the other’s thigh. “Maybe I should let the boys take turns with you, huh?”

The hero had enough of his senses left to tense, hands clenching and tugging against the cuffs. “No— please—“

Zehir’s grin grew wider. “I knew you’d warm up to me,” he purred, one hand sliding to the back of Mercy’s head, running fingers through his hair with mocking affection. After a moment his grip tightened, jerking the other’s head back to look at his face: he was a mess already, cheeks flushed and eyes brimming with tears, panting and practically drooling with aphrodisiac-induced need. The villain brought up a free hand to cup his chin, dragging a thumb along his bottom lip. “Poor pretty boy. I’ll keep you to myself, angel, don’t worry your head. But I guess I’ll need to find another way to give you what you need…” 

Mercy whimpered, and Zehir’s lips curved into a wicked grin.

~

Mercy didn’t know how much time had passed. Time had ceased to have any meaning for him. There was nothing but sheer, unadulterated pleasure, unending to the point it was nearly maddening - he couldn’t reach release, couldn’t do anything but endure.

He’d been moved, bound spread-eagled to the bed, body stretched out so he had scarcely an inch to struggle against the cuffs. The clamps on his nipples had been removed, only to be replaced with new ones, with teardrop-shaped weights dangling from them in place of the chain, putting pressure on without him even needing to move. The cock ring had stayed on, the confining pressure making him feel like he would burst, and Zehir had laughed as he added the piece de resistance: a thick, heavy dildo shoved deep into the hero, complete with a vibration feature that had been turned on to buzz in seemingly random bursts and patterns, changing often enough that Mercy couldn’t get used to any of them. Zehir had shoved it into him, fucking him with it for a few minutes before flicking the vibration on and leaving him there, squirming against his bonds with no way of getting free.

The last thing the villain had done was tie a scarf over the hero’s eyes, blocking out the warehouse and anyone in it. He couldn’t focus on anything but the sensations being forced through his body, every nerve ending on high alert, every inch of him begging for touch.

Still, when a hand actually descended to run along his side, he almost jumped out of his skin, a sharp sound escaping his throat. He heard Zehir’s throaty chuckle in response as the other tugged at one of the nipple clamps, turning the yelp into a moan. “How are you holding up, angel?” The villain’s voice was rich with amusement. “Are my toys keeping you satisfied?”

Mercy was trembling, pain and pleasure and fear and need tumbling over one another in his mind. He couldn’t even find words, just a desperate, pleading noise that he hadn’t even realized he was capable of making. Zehir laughed again, toying with his other nipple, tugging the clamp outward until the hero wanted to scream. “Such a hungry little slut. You want my cock again, don’t you?” A hand caressed his cheek, thumb catching on his bottom lip, dipping into his mouth. “I’ll be happy to give it to you.”

Before the hero could say anything - beg, plead, or protest - something hard and hot was pressing past his lips, making Mercy almost gag on it. Zehir’s cock was being shoved into his mouth, he realized, another hard shudder going through his body. Thick and heavy and tasting ever so faintly of soap and fuck, he wanted it so badly… however long it had been, it hadn’t been long enough for the aphrodisiac to work its way out of his system. He craved that cock, needed it more than oxygen, sucking eagerly as the other thrust into his mouth.

“Ahh, fuck - you’ve done this before, haven’t you? The city’s pure little hero loves having a fat cock stuffed down his throat - mm, perfect, take it, just like that.” He had a hand cupped around the back of Mercy’s head now, holding him in place while he fucked the hero’s face. The healer was moaning and mewling around him like a bitch in heat, and Zehir couldn’t resist shoving himself as deep as he could go, watching the other choke as his throat contracted around the tip of his cock. “Fucking beautiful,” he growled, holding him there until he was shaking with the need to breathe.

Only then did he pull back, pulling entirely out of the hero’s mouth and watching as he gasped for air, mouth still open and practically drooling for his cock, jerking against his bonds to try to get his lips around it again. Zehir brought up a hand, cuffing him lightly across the cheek, making him whimper. “Don’t be greedy,” he chastised, dragging just the head of his dick against Mercy’s lips, smearing precum over them. “If I let you out of these bonds, you’re going to be a good boy, aren’t you? You’re going to get on your knees and swallow my cock like a proper whore.” He dipped the tip into Mercy’s mouth, then pulled it away again, watching as the other arched and whined. “Promise me.”

“Yes,” the hero whimpered, squirming, trying to reach him again. “Please, let me suck you, I need to taste your cock, let me…” 

Zehir laughed low in his throat, bending over the other to undo the cuffs on wrists and ankles. He twisted the dildo into the other, though, making him moan again. “Don’t let your favorite toy slip out.” Mercy stumbled as the villain dragged him to his feet, then shoved him onto his knees, still blindfolded and clumsy from his time in confinement.

Without waiting, Zehir guided his cock into the other’s mouth again, immediately thrusting deep into his throat. Mercy groaned around him, hands coming hesitantly up to brace against Zehir’s hips as he started to suck in earnest. The villain allowed the touch, knowing the other was in no state to try anything but what he was told, what his desperate lust would allow. He was too busy enjoying the wet heat of the hero’s mouth and the tight constriction of his throat. The sounds the other made, the way he tried so desperately to swallow every inch, even when he could barely breathe, were intoxicating, pushing him too quickly close to the edge. Of course, he’d already been incredibly turned on watching the other whimper and writhe, to the point he’d barely been able to leave him alone for longer than a few moments, let alone the full hour he’d left the man being tormented with stimulation.

“Such a sweet cocksucker,” he purred, hand tangling in the other’s hair as he thrust into Mercy’s mouth again. “That’s right, angel, such a good boy, fuck, I’m gonna—“ He dragged the other’s mouth off him as he felt his orgasm hit, holding the hero’s head so he could splatter that pretty face with his cum, watching him desperately try to catch as much as he could in his mouth, licking it off his lips. 

Gods. What a perfect picture that made; Zehir would reflect back on it fondly for years to come, he was sure. 

He kept his hand tight in Mercy’s hair as he caught his breath; the other stayed on his knees, but he was squirming, whimpering. His cock was still painfully hard, his body wracked by tiny tremors as the vibrator continued to pulse inside him. Taking pity on the hero, Zehir finally pulled him up, shoving him back on the bed.

“You’ve been such a good boy, I’ll let you get yourself off,” he purred, pinning the other down to bite at his throat again, whispering the words against his skin. “I want you to show me what a little slut you are.” He grabbed Mercy’s hand, guiding it to the dildo still shoved into his ass. “Let me see you fuck yourself, good and hard like you need it, and I’ll let you cum.”

The hero shuddered, but his hand wrapped around the base of the toy. Zehir pulled back, watching him. “Come on, slut,” he demanded sharply, glad the other couldn’t see his grin or hear it in the harsh tone of his voice. “Now. Before I change my mind.”

Moaning, Mercy shifted his grip on the toy and began to move, jerking as he started thrusting it in and out of himself. Zehir watched with eager pleasure as he got into an rhythm, noises low and hungry. Leaning over the other again, he released one of the nipple clamps and was rewarded with a sharp yelp as the blood rushed back into the abused nub; he caught it in his mouth, biting down as he released the other clamp, hearing Mercy’s voice scale up to almost a scream. 

When he pulled back, a vicious smile had spread across his face. “Harder. You know you need a rougher fuck than that to get you off. Spread those legs and show me how that tight ass needs to be plowed, and play with those pretty little nipples of yours while you do it.” The hero whimpered, but complied, shoving the dildo in and out of himself almost viciously, one hand pinching his sore nipple. His mouth was open as he panted for breath, and Zehir could see tears dripping from under the blindfold.

Perfect; so, beautifully perfect.

He reached down to release the cock ring in one swift movement, wrapping his hand around the other’s dock and jerking him fast and hard, in time with the thrusts of the toy. “Cum for me, angel,” he whispered, voice low and rough. “Now.”

And Mercy did as he was told, body arching off the bed as the orgasm tore through him, screaming the villain’s name.

~

In the aftermath, he lay panting against the mattress, body feeling limp and completely drained. A warm hand touched him and a cool, damp cloth, making him jump, and a familiar husky chuckle echoed in his ears. “Sorry babe, forgot to take the blindfold off. Just cleaning you up.” 

Mercy groaned and rolled onto his back, tugging the scarf and the mask off and chucking them to one side as Zehir mopped the jizz off his chest and stomach. “Man, you came a ton,” the scorpion said with a laugh, settling onto the mattress next to him and tugging the blond into his arms, settling him comfortably against him. “Hope that means it was what you were looking for?”

“Beyond my wildest dreams,” the hero answered with another low groan, turning to nuzzle into his lover’s chest. “The fake crime scene at the beginning was a nice touch, really made it feel like the real deal.” 

“Like I’d ever interrupt you when you’re actually working,” Zehir retorted with a snort. “I might be a villain, but I’m not that bad.”

“Mm.” Mercy brushed a quick kiss against his collarbone, then lifted his head to look up at the other man. “You threaten to have your henchmen screw me again, though, and you’re the one getting tied up next time.”

Zehir laughed, squeezing the hero’s ass playfully. “Sounds like a fun time to me.” 

Mercy grumbled, but nudged himself up closer to the man, already starting to feel himself getting hard again; the aphrodisiac they had used was the real deal, and it was clearly still in his system despite the mind-numbing orgasm. “Hm… how long does this stuff last, again?”

“A couple more hours, I think.”

Mercy grinned. “Wanna let me be the bad guy this time?”

Zehir leaned down to kiss him, hugging the hero tightly against his body. “Thought you’d never ask.”


End file.
